Three Labrador retrievers — one brown, one yellow and one black, were sitting in the waiting room at the vet’s office when they struck up a conversation.
The black lab turned to the brown one and said, “So why are you here.”
The brown lab replied, “I’m a pisser. I piss on everything, the sofa, the drapes, the cat, the kids. But the final straw was last night when I pissed in the middle of my owner’s bed.”
The black lab said, “So what is the vet going to do?”
“Gonna give me Prozac,” came the reply from the brown lab. “All the vets are prescribing it. It works for everything.”
The black lab then turned to the yellow lab and asked, “Why are you here?”
The yellow lab said, “I’m a digger. I dig under fences, dig up flowers and trees, I dig just for the hell of it. When I’m inside, I dig up the carpets. But I went over the line last night when I dug a great big hole in my owner’s couch.”
“So what are they going to do to you?” the black lab inquired.
“Looks like Prozac for me too,” the dejected yellow lab said.
The yellow lab then turned to the black lab and asked, “Well, why are you at the vet’s office then?”
“I’m a humper,” the black lab said. “I’ll hump anything. I’ll hump the cat, a pillow, the table, fire hydrants, whatever. I want to hump everything I see.
Yesterday, my owner had just got out of the shower and was bending down to dry her toes and I just couldn’t help myself. I hopped on her back and started humping away.”
The yellow and brown labs exchanged a sad glance and said, “So, Prozac for you too, huh?”
“No,” said the black lab, “I’m here to get my nails clipped.”
A teenage boy was delivering papers to an apartment house. While there, a stunning young woman came out of the apartment next to the mailboxes wearing only a robe. The boy smiled at the young woman and she started up a conversation with him. As they talked, her robe slipped open, and it was obvious that she had nothing else on. The poor kid broke into a sweat trying to maintain eye contact.
After a few minutes of flirting, she placed her hand on his arm and said, “Let’s go to my apartment, I hear someone coming.”
He followed her into her apartment; she closed the door and leaned against it, allowing her robe to fall off completely. Now nude, she purred at him, “What would you say is my best feature?”
Flustered and embarrassed, he finally squeaked, “It has to be your ears.”
Astounded, and a little hurt she asked, “My ears? Look at these breasts; they are a full 38 inches and 100 percent natural. I work out every day and my ass is firm and solid. I have a 28 inch waist. Look at my skin, not a blemish anywhere. How can you think that the best part of my body is my ears?”
Clearing his throat, he stammered, “Outside, when you said you heard someone coming…that was me.”
Last Saturday night, a routine police patrol was parked outside a bar in a small town in South Louisiana. After last call, the officer noticed a Old Cajun Dude leaving the bar so intoxicated that he could barely walk. The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing.
After what seemed like an eternity, in which the OCD tried his keys on five different vehicles, he finally managed to find his car and fall into it. He sat there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off.
Finally, the OCD started the car, switched the wipers on and off (even though it was a fine, dry, summer night), flicked the blinkers on and off a couple of times, honked the horn and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed little and then remained still for a few more minutes as some more of the other bar patrons’ vehicles left. At last, when his was the only car left in the parking lot, he pulled out and drove slowly down the road.
The police officer, having waited patiently all this time, now started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the Old Cajun Dude over and administered a Breathalyzer test. To the officer’s amazement, the Breathalyzer indicated no evidence that the OCD had consumed any alcohol at all !!!
Dumbfounded, the officer said “I’ll have to ask you to accompany me to the police station. This Breathalyzer equipment must be broken.”
“I doubt it officer,” the proud Old Cajun Dude said. “Tonight I was appointed to be Da Designated Decoy.”
Defense Attorney: Will you please state your age?
Little Old Lady: I am 86 years old.
Defense Attorney: Will you tell us, in your own words, what happened the night of April 1st?
Little Old Lady: There I was, sitting there in my swing on my front porch on a warm spring evening, when a young man comes creeping up on the porch and sat down beside me.
Defense Attorney: Did you know him?
Little Old Lady: No, but he sure was friendly.
Defense Attorney: What happened after he sat down?
Little Old Lady: He started to rub my thigh.
Defense Attorney: Did you stop him?
Little Old Lady: No, I didn’t stop him.
Defense Attorney: Why not?
Little Old Lady: It felt good. Nobody had done that since my Albert died some 30 years ago.
Defense Attorney: What happened next?
Little Old Lady: He began to rub my upper torso.
Defense Attorney: Did you stop him then?
Little Old Lady: No, I did not stop him.
Defense Attorney: Why not?
Little Old Lady: His rubbing made me feel all alive and excited. I haven’t felt that good in years!
Defense Attorney: What happened next?
Little Old Lady: Well, by then, I was feeling so “spicy” that I just laid down and told him “Take me, young man. Take me now!”
Defense Attorney: Did he take you?
Little Old Lady: Hell, no! He just yelled, “April Fools!”
And that’s when I shot him, the little bastard.
So my car is in the shop. Yes, that one. It’s a long story too. Suffice to say there is a problem with the climate control, and I’m finding out the biggest downside to owning an EV: Getting it fixed when things go wrong.
So far I have already been ripped off by one dealership. They told me they could work on my LEAF, but things did not go well there. After I got hosed for $140 and nothing done to fix the problem, I found out from the two other area dealerships that the one I went to does not actually have any technicians certified to work on the LEAF. It would appear they scammed me.
One of the dealerships told me up front they do not have a LEAF tech, but the last one boasted that they are the only ones to have qualified technicians in this area. I wish I had known that beforehand.
So for now, I’m driving my old gas guzzling GMC. Hopefully the dealership will find the problem and be able to fix it soon.
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Flush Twice is a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes are published every Monday through Friday (midnight EST). There is also a comic and a personal blog in the sidebar that updates on the weekends. We’ve been operating since May of 2003.
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